


Wildfire In My Lungs

by grimparadigms



Series: widojest week 2019 [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, confessions and trauma!, other members of the m9 make appearances except yasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 21:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimparadigms/pseuds/grimparadigms
Summary: Nott grows impatient that Jester and Caleb won't just confess their love to each other, so she takes measures into her own hands.





	Wildfire In My Lungs

**Author's Note:**

> I am so glad I pushed myself to participate in Widojest Week. It's been so much fun, and you guys are all such amazing writers and artists. I hope we can have another event like this again! (Liam and Laura, please don't sink us.)
> 
> For Day 7: Zone of Truth

**THREE HOURS BEFORE THE INCIDENT**

Nott had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs, flask in hand, running her index finger along the cap in slow circles. She was fighting impatience and the urge to drink. The temptation was there —always would be—but she had a particular goal for the day and she refused to let it slip by because she got wasted too early. Soon enough she heard the light footfalls of Beauregard, jostling her in the shoulder as she jumped from the last step.

“Well, I got her distracted for awhile.” Beau looked past her, to the top of the stairs, and Nott followed her gaze, but no one was there. “I convinced her to write me a short story of Waccoh and the Bright Queen as jilted lovers.”

“Huh,” Nott finds herself nodding, “I would read it.”

“Right? Anyways, what about on your end?”

“I sent Yeza to have a talk with him,” Nott flips open the cap of her flask, and tries not to inhale too deeply, before closing it again.

“Yeza? How is your husband going to distract Caleb for several hours?”

“My husband is very creative!” Nott replies in a harsh whisper. “He knows we’re doing this for love.”

“I’m doing this for my own sanity,” Beau mutters. “But whatever, let’s just get this done.”

Nott tucks her flask away and follows after Beau toward the other staircase, where they would find Caduceus and Fjord making attempts to meditate on the roof. Nott would ask if she cared enough to understand, but she found it much more amusing to sneak up to Fjord,whose eyes were firmly closed, and pinch her fingers across his nose.

“What the—“ His yellow eyes snapped open, and he smacked her hand away. “Really, Nott?”

“Ah, evening,” Caduceus opens his left eye, still sitting peacefully beside Fjord. “Came to join us?”

“Not today.” Beau’s got her arms crossed and is taking this far more seriously than Nott. “We actually just need your help.”

“My help?” Cad slowly begins to open the other eye curiously.

“Both, actually.”

“We’re on a mission!” Nott perks up, flicking Fjord on the forehead. He gives her a sideways glare.

“It’s sort of a mission? But more of a ‘can-you-two-kiss-already-you’re-driving-us-insane’ kind of thing?”

“Ah,” Cad nods knowingly.

“Huh?” Fjord’s already confused. Nott flicks him again for good measure.

“She means Jester and Caleb,” Caduceus helpfully supplies, patting the half-orc’s shoulder gently. “How can we be of service, Miss Beau?”

“Did the Wildmother give you access to a spell where you can force people to tell the truth?”

“Hm. Yeah, I believe I do remember learning something about that.”

“We were thinking you could cast it on a piece of paper or—“

“Or a flower,” Nott offers, remembering how easy it was to braid flowers into Caleb’s hair.

“—A book.”

“A bed would be even better,” Nott notes.

“Why the hell do you need me for this?” Fjord’s already pushed his way to his feet, rolling the tension out of his shoulders.

“Don’t get snippy with us, big man!”

“Well…” Beau draws it out. “We were hoping to use your room.”

“My room?” Nott rolls her eyes at his indignance. “Why’s it gotta be my room? There are plenty of other rooms in this place!”

“Your room is the most cut off.” Nott admires that Beau can manage to keep a straight face. “It’ll be easy to lock them in there.”

“What? Why would you need to lock them in _my_ room?”

“Because we’re forcing their hand. Those dumbasses are way too stubborn to say anything on their own, so we’re taking every measure and precaution to get them to that finish line.”

“Fuck,” Fjord runs a palm over his eyes. “They are gonna defile my room, aren’t they?”

“Don’t be a baby!” Nott snaps, wishing she could reach his ears so she could pinch them as well. “Caleb deserves it!”

“But my bed, Nott!”

Nott narrows her eyes, feeling a sort of wickedness come over her. Her yellow eyes gleam as she grins. “Yeza and I already did that last weekend.”

“Ohohoh,” Fjord’s fists clench at his sides. “I’m gonna kill her, Beau. I am goin’—“

“She’s joking, relax.” She wasn’t, but that didn’t really matter. “We need everyone on board with this. Otherwise, this whole thing is just going to fall apart.”

Everyone went quiet. Nott would do anything for Caleb, and almost anything for Jester. It had been Beau’s idea to include the others, altering Nott’s idea and expanding it. Nott’s plan had only been to lock Caleb and Jester in a room together for however long it took. Eventually one of them would have to cave. A flawed approach,maybe, but if it ended with her friends happy and in love, then it was worth it.

“I’m always willing to help friends,” Caduceus gives Beau a wide smile. Nott will have to remember to give him a good hug when this is over. Maybe she’ll even sit and drink dead people tea with him.

“Fjord?” All eyes move to him, his jaw clenched. “Come on, man.”

“If they have sex in my bed….” Fjord starts, the idea seemed to nauseate him.

“They won’t even admit they like each other,” Beau attempts to reassure them. “I doubt they are going to jump into bed together.”

Well—“ Nott begins but decides it’s better to keep her thoughts to herself. Caleb had been giving Jester enough longing looks by this point that Nott could have filled an entire library with his glances alone. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if those built up feelings ended in tangled, warm bodies. Spitefully, she hoped it did

“I’m holding you to that.” Fjord sighs. “Fine. Use my room. Just don’t touch my stuff.” He stares directly down at Nott, emphasizing that last bit towards her. She just winks back at him.

They only had a couple hours at best to get everything done. Nott did not care what she had to do; the night would end with Jester and Caleb in a room together, even if she had to step on a few toes to get there.

\---

**ONE HOUR BEFORE THE INCIDENT**

Nott found herself in Jester’s room, sitting cross-legged on the bed while she watched Jester pull dresses from her wardrobe.

“Was it this one?” Jester asks for the third time—holding up a satin, deep red dress she’d bought in Nicodranas a few months back.

“No, no,” Nott waves her hand. “It was definitely orange.”

Nott can only remember that they had been in some city where the rain had been coming down hard, and she’d managed to drag Caleb along for the ride. Jester had insisted they reward themselves for finishing one of their latest, tiring long missions with some new dresses. Nott remembers because she had found something she didn’t feel completely hideous in, and Jester and Caleb had bombarded her with compliments until she’d given them both sloppy kisses on the cheek.

Nott at the time had only just begun to notice the way Caleb would look at Jester, with a torn-up sadness and grimace, biting down on any form of love. But when Jester had come out in some orange dress that fell off her shoulders, Caleb hadn’t been able to hide that soft smile from her.

She wanted him to smile like that again, freely. She wanted it for him so badly.

“Orange? Are you like a hundred percent certain it was orange, Nott?” Jester’s still pulling out one garment after another, having already created a small pile of assorted colors, none of which were what Nott remembered. “I don’t usually wear that color…”

“It was like super sexy, lots of skin.”

“Hmm,” Jester taps her lips. “I don’t have many dresses like that.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever worn it. You were worried it was too short, but Caleb convinced you that it wasn’t.”

“Oh,” her face lit up. “I know where that dress is!”

Jester moved from the open drawers of the dresser to her haversack, riling around the pockets until she pulled out the same dress Nott remembered all too well.

“I never even took it out because I never knew when I could wear it!”

“You should wear it tonight.” Nott’s already hopped off the bed, making her way toward Jester. She pushes her toward the mirror, helping her to hold it over her figure.

“Nothing is happening tonight, though. Won’t the others think it’s weird if I’m just spinning around the house in this?”

“Pfft. You can look sexy any time of the day, Jessie. No reason needed.”

“That’s true,” she smiles. “I _did_ look really good in it.”

“Caleb certainly thought so.”

Jester’s cheeks flush a deep purple, and she releases a light laugh. “I wish.” She turned away from the mirror, towards Nott with a shy smile. “Can I ask you a question, Nott? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to… But you’ve known Caleb the longest so…” Jester swallowed, holding the dress tightly to her chest. “Do you think Caleb could ever… love again?”

Nott sees all the fear and anxiety in Jester’s eyes and hates the familiarity of it. All those years ago, Nott was just the same, a halfling who wondered if she’d ever find love, let alone a friend. Nott didn’t miss the uncertainty of new love—relieved that she could look down at the misshapen heart on her finger and know there was Yeza, loving her even when she wasn’t worthwhile at all.

“I-I know there is no point in trying to compete with _the one_ ,” Jester’s voice breaks a bit, and Nott moves in to wrap her arms around her. “But I keep hoping that maybe, like one day, there’ll be enough room in his heart for some else too? Maybe?” Nott only holds on tighter. “That’s probably stupid, though. He’s got a perfect memory.”

“I think there’s plenty of room,” Nott gives her a final squeeze before pulling away. “I don’t think Caleb even knows how much love he has to give, but he’s a smart boy. He’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t think I’m being naive?” Jester lets out a bitter laugh and flicks away a tear that’s midway town her cheek.

Nott shakes her head, hating this pain she’d had to witness from both sides. Tonight would be saving them all from future grief and Nott could finally get black-out drunk in peace without having to worry about her two favorite people.

“Now no more tears, Jessie!” She put on her mom voice, ready to go to war for love. “Let’s get you into this dress and all prettied up so Caleb can pass out when he sees you!”

“Well, I don’t want him to pass out—”

“Fall face first into titties.”

“Death by titties?”

“If he has to be taken out, I think that’d be his favorite way to go.”

Jester laughs and the tears are gone. Nott gets to work, pulling her out of her usual gear, trying to bury away her own anxious energy. She could be selfless for a day, for the sake of love. She repeated the mantra to herself until Jester’s blue, freckled skin and bouts of laughter were the only things in her mind.

\---  
**FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE THE INCIDENT**

“Hey, Caleb. You got a minute?”

“Ja, of course.”

“It’s a, uh, private matter.”

Nott peaks around the corner from the top of the steps, straining to hear Fjord and Caleb. At least Fjord could lie through his teeth, which seemed to be his one redeeming quality in Nott’s eyes. She kept her eyes to the steps until she saw Fjord, and ducked back down the opposite end of the hallway to hide in the shadows.

If Fjord could do this one thing right, and not fuck up all their planning, maybe she’d pay him a compliment.

Every minute was a minute where something could go wrong, and Nott was absolutely ready to act on the fly if things began to fall apart. But she was certain they wouldn’t, because she’d worked her ass off arranging for things to fall into place.

Beau had already guided Jester into Fjord’s room—“Fjord wants to talk to us, he said it was important,”— and Beau had fumbled over the lie, but Jester had taken her seriously enough, waiting in the room patiently with the door closed. The harder part was getting Caleb into the room fast enough without him questioning their motives. He was much too perceptive and suspicious, which was why Fjord had been offered up to get him there. Caleb would have seen through Nott in a heartbeat, and would have questioned Beau too extensively. It _had_ to be Fjord.

Caleb was going to be the biggest challenge no matter what angle they played. After an hour of Yeza distracting him, he’d quietly messaged Nott to retrieve her husband. Yeza had apparently begun to slip in metaphors of possibly occurring shenanigans—accidentally she was sure— though she’d ask him about it later. It was enough that Caleb had retreated to his room and asked not to be disturbed.

Oddly enough, it had been Mister Clay who had coaxed Caleb out of his room, with promised food and cheerily hidden lies that there were no shenanigans to be had. Nott didn’t question how the firbolg managed to lie so boldly with an easy smile, but she was impressed. Caleb stayed in the dining area, book in hand as always, eating some strange offering of roasted potatoes and veggies.

Nott had sat beside him while he ate, nudging him every time he got too caught up in his book to remember to take another bite. He would mumble back to her in Zemnian, and eat a few bites before disappearing back into the book. She felt so proud of him, simply watching him be present, and knowing that at the end of the night he was going to be so happy.

He’d even been distracted enough that he hadn’t caught her whispering to Mister Clay about brewing some special tea for Jester. “Just in case,” she added softly. Was she setting her expectations too high? Maybe, but she’d rather they have the option if it went that way. “It’s always good to be safe,” he smiled back, sagely. For once, it felt like the Mighty Nein were on the same page.

“They’re coming!” She had the wire held to her lips, whispering harshly to Beau. “You can reply to this message.”

“Wow, that was loud. We’re clear, no worries.” She hears Beau’s reply in her head and feels relief, tucking away the wire, and waiting to see the familiar shape of Caleb emerge on the stairs.

He glances down the hallway, right towards where she’s crouched in the corner, and for a moment she thinks that she’s majorly fucked up and he’s caught on. But his eyes pass over her, and he turns away, continuing after Fjord. Nott quietly follows.

“The house has been quiet today.” Nott catches the suspicion in Caleb’s voice, and wishes Fjord would get to the end of the hall faster.

“Really? Haven’t noticed,” Fjord drawls, stopping at his door. “I think it’s actually been pretty noisy.”

“Huh.”

Nott moves fast, because she knows the seconds are ticking by before Caleb turns around and bolts back down the stairs. Fjord’s already opened the door to his room, standing aside to let Caleb enter first. But when Caleb pauses for a beat, Fjord’s hand is already on Caleb’s back, shoving him into the room. Nott slides to Fjord, helping him to slam the door shut, and locking it with a resounding click.

“Do not let them fuck on my bed, Nott,” Fjord glares down at her, before stalking off.

Nott flips him off before turning back to the door, pressing her ear close, trying to overhear the beginnings of a conversation, but all she hears is silence. She waits a few seconds and still nothing.

“What just happened?” She finally hears the distant lilt of Jester’s accent muffled through the door.

Caleb sighs, that deep tired familiar sound. “Well, I certainly walked right into this one.”

Nott pulls away from the door, looking back over the lock to make sure it was secure before she waltzed into Beau and Jester’s room, swinging the door open.

“Shhh!” Beau’s leaned up against the wall, hands cupped around her right ear. “I’m trying to hear!”

Caduceus is on the floor, teacups spread in front of him, smiling up at her as she enters. “Tea is ready.”

“What are they saying? I’m having trouble hearing,” Nott steps around Caduceus, and leans against the wall as well in an attempt to hear, but her large ears made it extremely difficult.

“They are complaining about us? I think?” Beau shrugs. “We should probably do the spell thing before they start coming up with ideas.”

Caduceus is already standing, dusting off his pants, cup in hand. Beau stays glued to the wall, waving them away out the door. Nott tries not to bounce with excitement.

“Here, hold this,” he hands off the tea cup. She holds it gingerly in her hand and watches as he mutters a few words, flicking his fingers along the edges of the cup, and she feels the magic hit her.

“It worked!” She grins. She bends down to the gap beneath the door, pulling out the paper she’d tucked away, sliding both through the opening as far as she could.

She pops back up and gives Mister Clay a thumbs up, and he pats her on the head, messing up her dark locks. She dodges away, back into the other room to be with Beau, so they could both be nosey together. All they could do now was wait.

\---  
**THE INCIDENT**

Caleb stares down at the small green arms that press the objects beneath the door, and feels something probe into his mind. He vaguely remembers the spell, and hates the strange taste in his mouth now— the one that tells him he can tell no lies.

“I am sooo confused,” Jester stands beside him, reaching down for the cup of tea—the strong aroma of cinnamon wafting from the cup.

Caleb reaches for the bent paper and unfolds it, looking over the wild scratching of Nott’s handwriting. She’s taken inspiration from Jester, having decorated the corners with massive dicks surrounded by hearts.

_TEA IS FOR JESTER_  
_TELL HOW HOW YOU FEEL_  
_~~TEA IS FOR BONING!~~_

He stares a moment too long, Jester already taking light sips of the tea, leaning into him to try and read over his shoulder. His face is on fire, and he crumples up the paper into the smallest ball he can manage and tosses it across the room.

“What’d it say?” She asks between sips, her long lashes blinking innocently up at him.

“It’s stupid. Don’t drink that, liebling.”

“It’s really good, though!” She pauses, flashing her fangs at him. “You should try.”

“No. No.” He’s rubbing the ends of his brows, fighting the humiliation that has been brought upon him. By Nott, no less…

“It didn’t explain why they locked us in here? I mean this is really weird, unless it’s some sort of game?”

“Nope,” his voice cracks, and he tries to remember to breathe, unable to look her in the eyes. “Not a game. Just a certain little goblin meddling in things she shouldn’t.”

“I don’t get it at all, though. Like a lock couldn’t stop us if we wanted to get out,” Jester walked over to the nightstand and set her cup down, and Caleb allowed himself to look over at her. She was wearing that dress, _the dress_ , the one she’d dazzled him with when they’d trekked through one of the small cities south of Nicodranas. The vibrant orange silk danced along her skin, the asymmetrical bottom of the dress stopping just midway up her thigh, high enough that any coherent words got lodged in his throat. As if that wasn’t enough, her cleavage was as visible as the night he’d seen her in her slip, exposing too much freckled blue skin. “There has to be more to it.”

“Magic,” he breathed out, suddenly remembering the books that hung from his shoulders. “Of course.” He pulled out his spellbook, bringing his index finger to his tongue so he could quickly flip through the pages. He’d gone through his spells earlier. He already knew what he had prepared, and yet he checked again anyway, wishing he had conveniently prepared something better for the situation.

“You have that spell, ja?” Caleb turns to her, leaving his spellbook open on the one spell he would have liked to prepare. “The one the jumps two people across dimensions?”

“Of course,” she smiles, patting around her empty waist, a slow realization coming to her. “Wait a minute! Nott! What the fuck! She took my symbol to the Traveler!”

He’ll admit, he’s a little impressed.

“We’ve been outsmarted,” he sighs, shutting his spellbook and making himself comfortable on Fjord’s bed. “Now I understand why she insisted I leave my coat in my room.”

Jester groans, sitting beside him in a huff, her dress riding up particularly high and he forces his gaze away. He notices her perfume next, delightfully sweet, and everything about her is becoming incredibly overwhelming. He isn’t sure how he’s going to survive the next seven minutes or more.

“They won’t keep us in here forever,” Jester brushes her hair behind her ears. “Eventually they’ll let us out.”

He could picture Nott threatening anyone who tried to unlock the door, crossbow in hand and ready to throw down. Nott the Brave would never budge if she thought there was a chance she would win out in the end. He didn’t want to disappoint her but, but—

Jester had pulled away from him, and was halfway across the room, heading towards that crumpled piece of paper. He should have burned it, but in a panic had forgotten that magic existed at all. Jester was much too fast, already unrolling the paper, those bright purple eyes of hers reading along.

“Caleb!” Jester holds the crumbled paper to her chest in mock offense. “Did you lure me in here to have your way with me?”

He groaned, pressing his face into his hands. He wishes she wouldn’t do that; the burn of his cheeks more painful than usual. Every word out of his mouth would have to be carefully chosen for the next seven minutes.

She’s giggling, and even the sound makes his heart stutter. “Caleb, why would Nott think we were going to bone?”

“She’s—I can—,” he can’t say anything at all, because he knows exactly why—because he isn’t as subtle as he’d like to think and Nott is not nearly as blind as she pretends. He sticks to shrugging instead.

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, and he waits for the heat of his cheeks to fade so he can look her in the eye. The paper is still in her hand, but she’s moved back over to the tea, pulling it to her lips while locking eyes with him. He feels a different kind of warmth spread beneath his skin and he clenches his jaw, trying to draw any willpower he once had back into his shrinking body. “No wonder this tea is so good.”

“Do not indulge her.”

“I’m not! It’s actually really good.” She sips and sips until she’s finished the whole thing and then she’s springing back over to him, a wild excitement coming over her. “Does Nott know something I don’t?”

“She knows many things,” he finds himself saying. Jester’s in his face now, and he’s distracted by the dotting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, that remind him of the night sky. She’s so casually stunning, it physically hurts him to hold himself away from her.

“Things about me? Things you’ve said about me? Like if you think I’m pretty cute?”

“You know you are.”

She looks so devious with a smile that’s all teeth, leaning closer to plant her hands against his thighs to hold herself up. Her breath smells of burning cinnamon, and he tries not to think of the taste.

“Well, Caaaayleb, if you think I’m so cute, why don’t you do something about it?”

He has many favorite things about Jester Lavorre, things he could rattle on about for hours if asked, but it was often the sparkle of her lavender eyes that burned into him. When he looked at her, holding her gaze for more than a moment, he felt like he could feel every bit of undeserved kindness and love and emotion reaching out for him, eager to drown him.

“Because it is dangerous, and I,” he swallows, trying to not think of her small hands on his thighs, only pressing deeper. “I could never be worthy of a girl like you, Jester Lavorre.”

“What?” She pulls away as if he’s raised her hand to her, all the mischievousness falling away. “Caleb…” Suddenly she’s the one who looks wrecked with nerves, stepping away from him. “Do you—Are you—“

He gets up from the bed, and moves toward the door because that look on her face? He can’t deal with it. He jostles the doorknob and then knocks loudly.

“Nott? The fun is over. Let us out.”

He has to get out before he says something he will regret or worse, he won’t regret it at all and won’t be able to deny himself the comfort of her. She’s trapped in here with him, and he’s scared to see all the layers of himself unravel. He can’t let her see the tragedy of himself up close.

There’s no response on the other side and he bangs louder, one hand still on the doorknob. He’s afraid to turn around, to look upon the face of Jester, to see the rawness of her feelings and now he can’t hide from it.

“Caleb.”

There’s still four minutes left of the spell. Time is moving too slow. He feels the cool touch of her on his left hand—the one curled around the doorknob.

“Please look at me,” she says it so softly, the ache in his chest is just another reminder of why he shouldn’t be locked in here with her.

He turns because he’s never been able to deny her anything, least of all something as small as acknowledging her. So he looks at her, dismissing his feelings, wishing himself into oblivion. Jester’s eyes are downcast, her tail anxiously swishing behind her.

“I didn’t really imagine doing this here,” she begins, looking up at him past those long dark lashes.

“Please, Jester. Don’t.”

“You mean so much to me, Caleb. And it’s so hard to find the right words to tell you how I feel.” A closed fist rests above her heart. “But for so long now, you’re all I ever think about, worry about, dream about.”

He hangs his head and wishes desperately, hopelessly, that he were not here at all. The ache only grows stronger, and he’s scared he’ll break before her; a mess of uneven pieces that she’ll undoubtedly try to put back together. He would never let her, he loves her far too much to subject her to that.

“Jester, whatever you think of me, you are wrong.”

“What does that even mean, Caleb?”

“The man you think I am?” He’s full of bitterness, and he’s biting his tongue so hard—he can taste the blood. “I am a much worse creature than you could have imagined. I am undeserving of….” _Your love_ , he thinks. But he thinks that most days he is not even deserving of any part of her, even her friendship.

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not,” he insists, raising his head so that she can the reality; the cold, emptiness of his soul.

“I know you, Caleb, and I love—”

“You don’t. You don’t know the sort of monster I am.”

He’s led her here. He’s indulged her flirting for too long that he’s given her the idea that he’s man that can be loved. He’s the awful sort that has tricked her into believing there is a man underneath the layers of guilt and shame and despair. There was never anything but a shadow.

“Stop! Stop talking about yourself that way!” She snaps, her hand cupping his cheek, trying to draw his lost gaze into her own. She’s so determined to change reality, he almost wishes he could mirror it. “The Caleb I’ve known all this time is not a monster.”

“Before—”

“Fuck before,” she states passionately.

“I am the sort of man that kills, maims, burns.” There’s little feeling left in him at all as he thinks of that fire, the one that still swallows him every night—the skin of his flesh falling away to ash. “I’ve destroyed everything I’ve loved. I won’t do that to you, Jester.”

“You won’t. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

He locks his fingers around her wrist, pushing her hand away from him. “I would.”

There’s only a minute left of the spell, the remaining seconds tick down in the back of his head. He wonders what sort of cruelty remains in the world that gods would allow their souls to meet. He was only ever going to hurt her, and a soul like hers deserved to be spared that pain.

Her eyes are already bright with tears, and she’s fighting hard to hold them in, and he’s proud of her for being so strong.

“My parents. I burned them alive,” he says flatly. “I am that sort of man. The worst kind.”

She wipes her tears, and he waits for her to backtrack—to step away from him, maybe even swing her fists. He waits and watches for those eyes that always followed him too closely, to fill with a fierce horror and hatred.

“Okay,” she sniffles.

She hasn’t backed away, and the ache in his chest is vibrating through him; his hands are shaking and the spell has fizzled to nothing. But Jester remains, strong in her resolve.

“I killed them, Jester.” She’s only nodded, the tears still mercilessly falling. He’s shaking harder. “They were the people who loved and raised me and I slaughtered them. I repaid them by taking their lives.”

He collapses to the floor, his own tears burning in his eyes and he can hardly see, hardly feel anything at all—except her hand, startlingly cold against his. He wants to yell at her, to shove her away, so she can see that she couldn’t truly love this monster.

“I love you,” she repeats, gripping onto him tighter. “I love you so much, Caleb Widogast. I love you, I love you.”

“You shouldn’t,” he chokes out.

“But I do.”

She’s pulled him into her arms, and it feels like the world has split open; both of them falling into oblivion, darkness waiting to consume them. He doesn’t know where he ends and she begins. All he can feel is the sensation of fire curling up beneath his skin, burning and consuming in the darkness.

“You don’t have to be that person again.” Her voice anchors him, and he leans into the sound, searching in the darkness for those eyes and that bright smile. “You’re the kind of man who offers up money, even when you barely have a cent to your name. You’re the kind of man who plays along with super silly pranks. You’re the kind of man who puts so much effort into every little detail because he cares that much.” Her voice is growing louder, and color begins to return to his vision. “That’s exactly the kind of man you are.”

It takes him a minute to regain a foothold back in reality—feeling her arms wrapped firmly around him, his face buried into the crook of her neck. Her breathing is steady, and he nuzzles in closer, afraid to pull away. He doesn’t want this moment to disappear. He knows he should let her go, but all his strength is gone. She’s everything; his heart, his soul, his world.

She begins to hum, her fingers drawing intricate designs on his back. He gets lost in the harmony, his mind following each note. Time is something he could always measure, but the concept eludes him. He’s caught up in every inch of her, letting only her voice lead his every thought. She holds him, until he regains the strength to pull away.

He doesn’t know if he believes in the man she described to him, but he thinks it’s the kind of man he wants to be. He wants to be the kind of man that could be worthy of her. He tugs away from her grip slowly, letting her arms fall away. They’ve both been on the floor for too long, his legs are aching. There’s dry tears on her cheeks, he thumbs them away gently.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she replies with a tentative smile.  
“I love you, Jester Lavorre.”

“You do?” She sounds so hopeful.

“I do,” he amends, pulling her to him this time, eager for ways to make it up to her. His lips find hers, not as gracefully as he imagined, but he only wants to feel her again—soft against the rough edges of his body. She sighs against him, his tongue gentle across her lips, always waiting for her to let him in. She pushes into his lap, desperate for them to become one being again. One hand tightens around her waist, another holds her face so he can taste every inch of her, cinnamon still warm on her tongue.

He kisses her for as long as he’s able, stopping only for precious moments of breath before their hungry lips find one another again. She sits comfortably atop him, sometimes trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. In every moment where they could gather their words, she told him she loved him and he responded in kind, with ease and affection, nothing withheld from her. He’d kept enough from her for too long, now he would deny her nothing at all, not even his soul.

Eventually they heard the click of the door, unlocking and opening. Caleb strained to turn his head to see his small, green friend standing in the doorway nervously. But she grinned wide when she took note of their intertwined position.

“Having a good time, you two?”

“The best.” Jester’s hands are still on his neck, and she leans away from him to look over her handiwork. She wiggles in place, and Caleb has to bite his swollen tongue from making any kind of sound. “I definitely made my mark.”

“I’d let you guys stay longer but,” Nott leans forward to whisper, “Fjord wants his room back, and he’s driving me insane. I might murder the bastard man.”

“Okay, okay,” Jester sighs sadly, collapsing her arms, and leaving him feeling suddenly cold without her presence atop him. She stood, tugging her dress back down—then helping to pull him to his feet.

“And the tea?” Nott arches an expectant brow, and Caleb rolls his eyes, gathering his things and stretching his legs.

“We didn’t need it this time buuuut,” Jester leans down to whisper conspiratorially, keeping her eyes trained on him, “We’re probably gonna need it again. Soon, probably. Maybe even tomorrow?”

He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders, and feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Ignore her. She’s a menace.”

“A menace you loooove!” She draws out, spinning around their goblin friend and disappearing down the hall.

Caleb stood there a moment, looking back over the room, and then toward his dearest friend that had tricked him in here.

“You’ve got a little something here,” she points to a spot on the base of his neck. “And here, and here too.” She moves her fingers to different points.

“She wanted to leave her mark,” he shrugs, trying not to think of the looks the other members of the group would give him when they saw for themselves.

He cleared his throat, bending down so he could look at Nott on her level. “Thank you.” He doesn’t know how she’s figured him out, when he’s always been such a closed book, but she’s always known when to push him and when to hold back.

“I just wanted you to be happy, Caleb.”

“Seriously,” he pulls her into his arms, as they once did all the time—for warmth, for comfort, and now for gratitude. “You are my dearest friend, Nott the Brave.”

He holds her and gives a kiss to her head, happiness dazing him and turning him to someone unrecognizable. Maybe someone he could grow to like. She reaches out to hold his hand and he accepts it, wishing again to be this version of himself that the best of them can see. He thinks he’ll try to be that man.

If not for himself, then for those who love him so deeply, they’d sink into the abyss with him.


End file.
